“If everything works as planned.” Dana shook her head. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business it’s that nothing ever goes as planned.”

  “Why’d you take the job, if you felt that way about it?”

  “We owed Karin Hachtel a favor.” Her eyes went back to the screen. “A big one—and if the Russians or their so-called ‘Republic of Crimea’ peacekeepers find her, she’ll end up in a gulag somewhere.” Dana’s brow furrowed. “If she’s lucky.”

  “Why do they want her that badly?”

  “She and her crew got caught behind the lines when the Russians pulled off their ‘referendum.’” Dana shrugged. “It appears they found a news source that knew exactly how the whole non-invasion was planned and executed—someone important enough to put the lie to Putin’s propaganda.”

  “That would certainly embarrass the Russians.”

  “Yeah.” Dana shook her head. “And you know how much the current leadership likes to be embarrassed.” She put a map of the Crimea up on her screen. “They’ve been looking for Hachtel and her crew since they realized what she had. They began by sending alerts to all the roads and border crossings—but she expected them to do that and, rather than trying to flee, found a good place to lay low and stay off the radar while her company sent in help.”

  “But now the Russians have started an active search, right?”

  Dana nodded. “They’ve sent men into all the obvious places—most of them are searching the cities where it’s usually pretty easy to disappear…”

  “Unless you don’t speak Russian!”

  “That would have been a problem.” Dana shrunk the map down to a single small area. “So they retreated to one of the Black Sea resort areas. They’re pretty deserted during the cold months—that’ll change when the weather improves.”

  “I have three targets now.” Bivens adjusted the view, zoomed in enough to show the three heat traces that represented the two ex-SEALs and an unknown addition. “I guess they made contact.” He looked at Dana. “Don’t worry about Flame; he seems to be awfully good at this kind of thing.”

  “He’s good at shooting his way out of danger.” Dana’s face became more serious still. “Something he cannot do in this case.” She shook her head. “He could start a war.”

  “He’ll be okay, Dana.” Bivens tried to make his tone as positive as possible. “He’ll make it back just fine. He always does.”

  ***

  Flame and Aesop followed Karin past the dacha they’d been watching to another a few blocks further on.

  “I am sorry about this,” Karin told the two men over her shoulder. “We lost communications with our people a few days ago.” She gave the two SEALs a knowing glance. “The Russians cut off the Wi-Fi for the entire peninsula.”

  “No problem.” Flame and his partner had fanned out to cover both sides of the street as they moved along. “We sort of thought it was something like that.”

  “It’s a good thing you were able to ask for help before they cut internet service. If you hadn’t…” Aesop’s eyes suddenly locked onto a tiny motion to his left. “Flame!”

  The two men swiveled in place, eyes searching for the source of the movement…

  “It’s under that bush over there,” Flame said over the earbud as he pointed to a patch of vegetation. “I saw some movement underneath the leaves.”

  “How do you want to handle it?” Aesop answered through the same connection.

  “We can’t shoot.” Flame had holstered his pistol soon after meeting Karin. “Let’s try to flush whoever it is and put the fear of God into him.”

  “Russians don’t believe in God.” Aesop began to shift even further left, eyes locked on the bush in question.

  “That was just in the first years after the revolution.” Flame shifted right, motioning for Karin to hold her position. “Now they believe in all kinds of Gods…” He saw a tiny movement under the bush.

  “Now!”

  Both men rushed at the bush in question, with Flame a little bit in the lead.

  Close enough to see a jet-black cat dart away.

  “Stand down.” He motioned to Aesop. “It’s only a cat.”

  “You two are kind of nervous.” Karin caught up, and put her hand on Flame’s shoulder. “Why?”

  “This is a very bad place for us to be.” Flame nodded to Aesop to move to a trail position. “If we kill a bunch of Russians, our own government will want our asses. If we get caught…” He shrugged. “Well, Mr. Putin and his people always want to talk to SEALs.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” Karin’s eyes narrowed as she thought about what Flame had just revealed to her. “If I had, I would have tried to get out by myself.”

  “You wouldn’t have made it.” Flame shook his head at the thought. “The Russians have the Crimea buttoned up tight. Nobody who doesn’t agree with their position is safe—especially reporters and correspondents who are unfriendly to Mother Russia.”

  “If it’s that tight, how do you plan to get us out?”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get under some cover.” He looked around. “I thought the dacha we were looking for was nearby.”

  “It is,” she said, and nodded to her left where a cheery light spilled from the front windows of a neatly kept little house. “The others are in there.”

  “Really?” Flame raised an eyebrow. “The owner is okay with you guys hanging out here even with all these Russians and ‘Crimean Republican’ security men prowling around?”

  “The owner is a very good man—and the main reason the Russians are looking for us.” She moved off the road, leading the two men up a rather narrow path made of what Flame thought were old paving stones. When they reached the side door of the dacha, she knocked once—then twice—then once more.

  The welcoming lights went out.

  “That was different.” Aesop grinned. “I was afraid you guys would do the ‘shave and a haircut’ thing.” He shook his head. “That’s so last century!”

  The door opened and Karin led them into the now dark interior. She stopped while the door closed behind them. “Turn on the lights,” she gestured. “These are our friends.”

  Almost instantly, lights came on throughout the little house—and Flame saw a familiar face at the door.

  “Hi Eric.” Flame grinned lopsidedly. “Talk to any ‘peaceful’ Sunnis recently?”

  “Him again?” The cameraman snorted. “Couldn’t they send someone else—someone with a soul?”

  “He saved your life twice.” Karin’s voice was hard—cutting. “You should show some appreciation,” she said as she motioned for Flame and Aesop to follow her, “rather than continuing to act like an ass!”

  “Is Dieter here too?” Flame looked around. “Are we dealing with the same crew?”

  “Dieter is not here.” Karin shook her head. “He was promoted to a production job in the studio. My new sound person,” she said, grinning, “is more your type, I think.”

  They stepped into the big living room that was the main feature of the dacha. On one side sat two people, an elderly man seated in a worn armchair that had been probably been comfortable when new thirty years ago, and at his side, a woman of similar age, in a similarly-aged armchair. Opposite them another woman sat on the floor. Flame guessed that this was Karin’s new sound person. She’s right, he thought. This one is for sure my type. He smiled ruefully. Or would have been before I met Kimberly.

  Leni Pfeuffer was about twenty years old and five foot eight or nine with more curves than most major league pitchers ever managed.

  She smiled at Flame—a smile that had considerable voltage behind it.

  “Herr Flame.” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I have heard much about you.”

  “Really?” He glanced at Eric. “Well, don’t take his word for much.” He shook her hand, smiling at its soft warmth and holding it just a hair longer than really necessary. “And this is my partner.” Flame gestured to the huge form looming at his side. “He prefers to be called ‘Aesop.’”

  “Ma’am.” Aesop’s hand engulfed hers. “A true pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “This,” Karin had moved to stand beside the man in the easy chair. “Is Vladimir Tytla.”

  “Tytla?” Aesop’s brow wrinkled. “There was a really good animator by that name back in the forties.”

  “I have heard of the man.” Tytla smiled. “But I do not believe he was a relation.” He shrugged. “My family, you see, has lived in the Ukraine for the past eight generations.”

  “Herr Tytla was an official of the Ukrainian government until his recent…” She glanced at him. “Retirement.”

  “I see.” Flame nodded. “And I’ll wager that he knows a great deal about the recent move to ‘liberate’ the poor downtrodden ethnic Russians living here?”

  “He knows a great deal.” Karin nodded. “More than is, perhaps, healthy.”

  “This is my country,” Tytla’s eyes bored into Flame’s. “I would fight for it were I younger, as it is…”

  “The new government has started distributing leaflets instructing Jews to register their property.” Karin sighed. “It is all so familiar.”

  “They will claim that such reports are lies, and that the opposition is trying to turn the world against them.” Tytla’s eyes burned with sudden energy. “But it is all true—and I can prove it!”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to take you out along with Karin and her people.” Flame smiled. “I don’t think two more—I assume you’re coming too, ma’am—” he nodded at Tytla’s wife “—will make a huge difference.”

  “How do you plan to get us through the Russian lines?” Eric had left his position at the door and joined the others. “Are you going to row us across the Black Sea?”

  “We just did that.” Flame smiled. “This time, I thought we’d all just take a nice drive across the border.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Are we sure the motor pool is still there?” Dana had already asked Bivens to check three times—but once more wouldn’t hurt.

  “Still right where it was an hour ago.” Bivens shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect them to pull out anytime soon.”

  “How many men are there?” Dana leaned over his shoulder. “Have they been reinforced?”

  “No reinforcements.” Bivens showed her the heat traces that indicated five men scattered around the indicated area. “Still just the five men that were in Flame and Aesop’s briefing package.”

  “How about the border crossing? Any reinforcements there?”

  “Not that I can see,” Bivens swiveled his chair and looked at his employer and friend. “Stop worrying—it’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.” Dana shook her head. “But there’re so many moving parts…”

  ***

  “Drive!” Eric spat the word out. “Are you insane? There are patrols everywhere! They won’t allow us to just drive away!”

  “They won’t allow us to do so,” Aesop smiled gently. “But they’ll certainly allow a pair of their own Special Forces to return to their home base in Mother Russia, will they not?”

  “I don’t understand,” Karin looked at the big man. “You are not…”

  “No?” Aesop unzipped the waterproof jacket he had been wearing revealing a BEKAS BDU shirt with Spetsnaz patches. “Can you be sure of that, dressed as I am?”

  “What will you do if someone questions you?”

  “Я отвечунаних - чтоеще?” Aesop smiled. “I speak very fluent Russian.”

  “With a very upper class Muscovite’s accent.” Tytla nodded. “I am impressed!”

  Flame took off his own jacket, revealing an identical BDU. “There is a Russian motor pool less than a mile from here. Aesop and I will requisition a vehicle and use it to drive all of you across the border.”

  “They will never let you cross!” Eric shook his head vehemently. “They have entire divisions watching the Ukrainian border. They will know that you are not real Spetsnaz!”

  “I don’t know,” Aesop grinned. “We’ve passed for Russian troops before.” He turned to Flame. “Remember Stan the Spetsnaz?”

  “Biggest soldier I ever saw.” Flame nodded. He and Aesop had met the bear-like Russian during a joint exercise some years back—and become quite friendly with him…

  “He was large.” Aesop nodded. “But he’d never have made it as a SEAL. I mean, you saw him shoot—he couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a RPG…”

  “And he couldn’t run worth a shit.” Flame nodded.

  The two men laughed.

  “He was good with a knife, though…” Aesop put in.

  “Yeah,” Flame agreed. “He was that. I wonder if he got into trouble after that day in Kazakhstan…”

  “Enough!” Eric threw up his hands. “Even if you can pass for Russians, your vehicle is bound to be searched, and then they will find us!”

  “They might,” Flame nodded. “If we planned to drive across the heavily-guarded, carefully patrolled border with the Ukraine.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to take a military ferry to Russia—then take a nice leisurely drive south along the coast to the Turkish border.” Aesop smiled gently. “From there, I don’t think there’ll be any trouble getting home.”

  “You are crazy!” Eric looked at the two of them. “That must be two thousand kilometers!”

  “Closer to three.” Flame shrugged. “You want frequent flier miles?”

  “But…”

  “It’s the safest way we can think of.” Flame turned to Karin and the others. “All our intel indicates that the Russians aren’t watching the back door too closely. We think we can make it.”

  “You may be right.” Tytla nodded. “The Russians think they have the Crimea bottled up, completely under their control." He nodded at the two Americans, and continued, "They will look for escape attempts from Ukrainians, but will pay no attention to a couple of their own.” He smiled. “Especially members of the universally admired Spetsnaz!”

  “It’s a go, then.” Flame glanced at his watch. “We’ll grab a vehicle just before dawn—they’ll be at their worst then—and head out immediately afterwards.” He looked around the room. “Pack everything you want to take—we won’t be coming back anytime soon.” He turned to Karin. “I’d appreciate it if you’d collect all the cell phones, put them in a box or something, and make sure they’re all turned off—the Russians can track them if they’re not.”

  Karin nodded and a moment later, the room exploded into activity.

  ***

  “It’s nearly three a.m. in the Crimea,” Bivens reported, eyes on his satellite images. “Flame’s favorite time or day. I’ll bet he’s making his move about now.”

  “Zoom in on the motor pool.” Dana sat up in her chair, turned to her own monitor. “We’ll be able to see if anything goes wrong.”

  “We can see—but we can’t do anything.” Bivens set up the imagery. “You know that, right?”

  “I know.” Dana nodded slowly. “I know it only too well.”

  ***

  “ Доброеутро!” Aesop waved at the young corporal manning the motor pool’s gate. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day!”

  “Sir!” The corporal saluted—Aesop was, after all, wearing the tabs of a Senior Lieutenant. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I need transportation.” Aesop held out a hand and Flame, a mere sergeant, slapped a stack of papers into it. “Something that is big enough to carry our equipment and reliable enough not to break down on the way home.”

  “You are going home?” The corporal leaned forward a little—then remembered who he was talking to. “Sir!”

  “Our work here is done.” The disguised Aesop waved a hand airily. “My men and I will soon have a new assignment.” He smiled at the young man. “I envy you! Soon it will be summertime! The beaches will be full of beautiful women wearing almost no clothing…” His smile faded. “And I will be somewhere where the women wear long flannel underwear and thick coats.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, sir.” The young man nodded to himself. “Thank you.” He waved Aesop and Flame through the gate. “The sergeant in the office should be able to find what you want.” His smile widened. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise—he has a number of very nice trucks and command cars hidden in the back of the secure area.”

  “Thank you Corporal…” Aesop leaned closer. “Your name?”

  “Ovetchkin, sir. Nikolai Ovetchkin.”

  “Corporal Ovetchkin.” Aesop nodded. “I will be sure to remember your name.”

  “Thank you sir.” The young man snapped off a very correct salute. “Thank you very much.”

  Aesop and Flame turned away and strolled down a lane bordered by any number of military vehicles. “That should do,” Flame said, nodding to a Ural-63059 Typhoon 24-ton truck on his right. “It’s configured for reconnaissance—should hold everyone comfortably enough.”

  “Fuel should be easy,” Aesop put in. “Uses diesel or gasoline—gets decent mileage too.”

  “We’ll order them to give us extra gas,” Flame nodded. “Simplify things.”

  “Get the number.” Aesop headed for the office shed. “I’ll talk to the sergeant.”

  ***

  Junior Sergeant Alexi Normakov was straightening his jacket when Aesop came through the door. He’d been warned about the Spetsnaz officer’s imminent arrival by Corporal Ovetchkin.

  The corporal would have preferred to see the outcome had he not warned the sergeant—especially if, as usual, that worthy had been asleep at his desk. He’d decided, however, that it was best to be prudent—he would be stationed here for some time to come and it was never a good idea to anger the man directly above you in the chain of command.

  “Lieutenant!” Normakov snapped to attention. “What can I do for you?”

  “You know that saluting in the field is frowned upon.” Aesop frowned at the man. “A sniper would know me for an officer through your action.”