Page 27 of Enemy Within

“Yes. Thank you.” Together, they headed for the restaurant, and Doc snaked a table on the far side. He took the chair against the wall, able to watch everyone who passed by and cover all corners. Faisal sat facing the concourse and searched the passersby, clearly watching for a certain set of shoulders and a messy head of brown hair.

12

Southern Siberia

SERGEY KEPT HIS EYES locked on Jack, their gazes fixed together. Jack had his hands up, but the man had already wrenched Jack’s rifle away. Over six feet tall, with a shaved head, hulking muscles, and a face like a pit bull that had lost a dog fight, he was terrifying to look at. A faded skull tattoo lined one side of his neck. He didn’t wear a jacket, just a thin, stained tank top. An eight-pointed star was tattooed on each shoulder. The edge of what looked like rays of a sun poked up above his neckline, beneath a tattooed dagger than seemed to run beneath his throat.

Prison tattoos.

Do not move, he tried to scream with his eyes.Do not move, Jack.

The man growled in Russian, “What brings two strange men into my wilderness, hmm?”

Jack swallowed hard. Sergey watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. Shit, Jack would be deaf to this. He didn’t know Russian at all, save for the polite diplomatic phrases.

“We are passing through,” Sergey replied, also in Russian.

The man circled behind him, slow, heavy steps through the crunching snow. “And who are you?” The tip of the man’s rifle stroked up Sergey’s cheek.

Sergey’s eyes slipped closed, briefly. Thank God for small favors. “We are no one,” he said, his voice shaking.

“And who is this? Who doesn’t speak!” Turning, the man jabbed his rifle into Jack’s face and pressed the bore hard against his cheek, smashing his face.

“A friend!” Sergey tried to stand, but the man grabbed Jack’s hair, pulled him back, and shoved the rifle under his chin. Jack stared at Sergey, his eyes like saucers. “He is a friend! He speaks no Russian!”

The man threw Jack down face first into the snow. He paced again, circling behind them as Sergey shuffled to Jack’s side. “A Russian and a foreigner in my country,” he hummed.

“We will leave. You can go about your business—”

“My business is you,” the man growled. He stood back, braced his legs, and pointed his rifle dead center at Sergey’s forehead. “I have been tracking you for two days. Cut you off from your herd at the river. Led you away, down to me.”

Dread sank within Sergey, pooling in the pit of his belly. They were already caught in this man’s web. Desperation clawed out of him, a primal, base need to fight his way free and survive. The instincts of prey caught by a predator.

Had this been what this man’s victims had felt like all those years ago? Terror, and an adrenaline-soaked dread, flooded him. His heart raced, pounding so hard his eyeballs ached. The need to run, to flee, to escape was blinding.

“We are no sport for you.”

The man laughed. “Like this? Caught? On your knees in the snow?” He knelt and grabbed Sergey’s chin, squeezing hard. “I hunted you here,” he hissed. Another squeeze, and then he threw Sergey down in the snow beside Jack. “It’s been a long time,” he breathed, rolling his neck, “since I had a true hunt.”

Sergey’s eyes met Jack’s again. He saw terror, the fear of not knowing a shred of what was happening, how fucked they truly were. He wanted to try and comfort Jack, but how? He shook his head, faintly.

“On your feet!” the man barked. “Now!”

Sergey scrambled, and he reached for Jack, helping him up. He stood in front of Jack, holding him back, and faced the man with his chin held high. “You will pay for what you do,” he vowed, his voice finally not shaking. If not him and Jack, then Ethan would find this man, avenge their deaths. His men, too. Anton, Aleksey, Vasily. Ilya, if Ilya was still alive.

“I was told that once before.” Grinning with broken, yellow teeth, the man raised his rifle again, sighting down the barrel. “They locked me up, threw away the key. Put me in a concrete box and said I’d never see another human being again. Stole the sun from me. I tried to chew through the walls once.”

Jack’s hand slid into Sergey’s. He laced their gloved fingers together. Sergey squeezed back.I’m so sorry, Jack. I’m sorry, Ethan.There was a part of him that let go, though. A release. Like part of himself slipped away early, vanishing from his body.Sasha… I will see you soon.

The man rested his cheek against the barrel of his rifle. “Now,” he growled. “Run.”

For a moment, they both froze, Sergey’s brain already set on being shot. He was turning out the lights, drawing inward, readying himself to die.

Jack tugged on his hand. His eyes flashed to the man, standing stock-still and grinning, his finger hovering over the trigger. He would shoot them in the back the first chance he got, when it was entertaining for him. They had one chance to flee.

Slowly, Sergey started backing away, holding on to Jack. His eyes darted to the right and left. They had to lose themselves in the trees. They had no weapons, no way to fight back. Blood still oozed sluggishly from his shoulder down his arm and dripped from his wrist into the snow.

They were ten meters away, though, and still moving backward.