“The first such trial of Russian Nationals was July 14 to 17 of 1943. The Krasnodar tribunal pronounced eight death sentences, all of which were carried out in the city square in front of a crowd of about thirty thousand people.” He poured in the gasoline. “They cheered as they watched their neighbors shot down in the street.” Aesop smiled. “That’s real civilization for you.”

  “But…” Eric looked between Aesop and Flame for a long second, trying to find something, anything to say…

  Then he turned and stalked off.

  “Nice fella.” Aesop watched him go. “Was he like this the last time you met him?”

  “Yeah.” Flame grinned. “Right up until one of his ‘civilized’ Sunni friends pointed a rifle at him and got ready to pull the trigger.”

  “That happened?” Aesop’s eyes widened. “How did he react?”

  “He shit in his pants.” Flame topped off the tank. “Then fainted dead away.”

  Both men laughed.

  ***

  “Lieutenant Rankin.”

  The officer in question stood at attention in front of Colonel Anosov’s desk, puzzled and a little concerned to have been called back. “Major Rogov has determined that the signatures on these requisition papers…” he tapped the now familiar sheaf of paperwork on his desk, “are forged.” He nodded slowly. “Expertly forged but forged nonetheless.”

  “Colonel.” Despite the cool air in the room, Rankin felt a bead of sweat appear on his forehead. “My sergeant and I,” he said, and shook his head. “We had no way to know…”

  “Calm yourself, Rankin.” The colonel gestured. “I do not blame you for this.” He spread the papers out. “These are too good to be the work of thieves.” He looked at Rankin. “I suspect foreign agents.”

  “Colonel?”

  “Major Rogov believes that these were made by agents of the United States Central Intelligence Agency—the CIA.” He shook his head slowly. “We do not know how they entered the peninsula but it is quite clear that they planned to leave in the Typhoon they took from your motor pool.”

  Oh God! The CIA was in my motor pool! Rankin’s mind whirled. They took one of my vehicles! He blinked his eyes, fighting back tears. It is the gulag for me—if I am lucky enough to survive!

  “I have a task for you, Lieutenant.”

  Rankin barely heard the Colonel’s words, so sunken was he in his own misery.

  “Lieutenant!”

  The shout brought him out of himself. If I am going to prison, Rankin thought, and straightened up, it is best I go as a man. He looked the colonel in the eye and responded: “Sir!”

  “Rankin, I want you to find your missing Ural and bring it back to your motor pool.” The colonel leaned forward. “I put at your disposal our intelligence and communications sections.” He looked the now even more confused junior officer in the eye. “Succeed at this and you may be able to expunge the blot on your record, Lieutenant.” His eyebrow went up. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir.” Rankin nodded quickly. “Thank you sir.”

  “Go, Rankin.” The colonel made a dismissive gesture. “Find the missing Typhoon. Track down whoever has stolen it.”

  Lieutenant Rankin snapped off a salute, about faced rather smartly, and marched out of the office.

  “Do you think he has a chance of finding the damn truck, sir?” Major Rogov had been standing by in the adjoining office, listening to every word of the colonel’s conversation. “After all, his record gives no sign of any real ability.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Gennady.” The colonel leaned back in his chair. “If he fails, we blame him for the theft, if he succeeds, we take the credit.” He smiled. “Either way, we are safe.”

  The two officers nodded at one another, secure in their tactics.

  ***

  As Lieutenant Rankin began his search, the Typhoon in question was back on highway M-25, heading south to the Georgian border. Aesop had taken a turn driving—it didn’t really matter who was wearing the officer’s tabs now and wouldn’t until they reached a border crossing.

  Leni was manning the radio but so far, no more information about a stray truck had been transmitted.

  “Did I tell you I was in Georgia during the Russian’s 2008 incursion?”

  “Not really.” Flame was stretched out in his chair, his hat pulled over his eyes. “I didn’t know we deployed a SEAL team there.”

  “I was there with the boats group.” Aesop maneuvered around a large pothole. “We were assigned to the McFaul and were supposed to pull out the ambassador and his staff if the shit really hit the fan.”

  “Ever go ashore?”

  “Nope.” Aesop shook his head. “Never saw anything except the bulkheads of the chopper hanger—we trained there for the whole time we were in port.”

  “I know the feeling.” Flame pushed his hat back. “After we got Bin Laden, we did a little work around the Pakistani border. We caught some fire from a couple of checkpoints—‘Boulder’ and ‘Volcano’ they were called. We lit them up with laser markers and called in some fast movers.” He shrugged. “Afterwards, I heard that we kakked twenty-four of the bastards.” His mouth turned down. “I would have been happier if we got them all.” He glanced at Aesop. “Treacherous bunch.”

  “You can say that again! We had this ISI agent on the hook, about to tell us about his Taliban contacts when…”

  “Aesop! Flame!” Karin was at the window, looking between the two. “Listen to this!”

  The radio crackled into action midway through some sort of report—there was too much static for Aesop to understand it—but two phrases were very clear: they were talking about a Reconnaissance Ural driven by two Spetsnaz men.

  And they knew it had crossed into Russia.

  ***

  “I want an immediate air search for the missing vehicle,” Lieutenant Rankin snarled into his phone. “We know they crossed into Ilyich, they must have taken the M-25 from there…” He paused while the officer on the other end of the line told him what he could do with his ‘wants,’ then continued: “I have authority from Colonel Anosov—should I have his office contact you, Lieutenant?”

  The tone on the other end of the line changed.

  “Good,” Rankin nodded. “Start the search. I am going to travel to Adlersky via helicopter and coordinate things from there.” He paused again, then: “We cannot use the helicopter for the search—it has to return here immediately after dropping me off. You must supply the aircraft.” Another pause, then: "If you only have fixed wings, use them!” He shook his head. “Give the orders! I will contact you from my CP in Adlersky in two hours.”

  He slammed the phone into its cradle. “Sergeant!” He glared as the portly figure of Normakov opened the office door. “Are you ready?”

  “Da, Lieutenant.” There really wasn’t all that much to pack—Sergeant Normakov had jammed all the paperwork on the stolen vehicle into a canvas bag, added a bottle of very good vodka, a handful of western candy bars he had obtained in a trade and a fresh set of underwear—it was all he expected to need on this wild-Typhoon chase.

  “The helicopter?” Rankin shot over his shoulder as he picked up his own bag.

  “Waiting.”

  “Good.” Rankin pulled on his cap. “Let us go.” He pushed past the sergeant and headed for the nearby helipad, wishing he’d had the opportunity to obtain some Dramamine—he was not a good flier and it would not do to get sick in front of the Sergeant…

  ***

  “Georgian border’s less than ten miles ahead.” Flame nodded at a road sign. “Do we go through border control?”

  “I doubt our paperwork will hold up.” Aesop shook his head. “Now that they have our number and know the vehicle is ‘borrowed.’”

  “We wouldn’t have too much trouble getting through…”

  “Flame,” Aesop shook a finger. “We can’t go shooting at the nice Russians—you know that.” He pulled a folded map out of his uniform pocket. “Let’s follow the mission briefing, shall we? You say we’re getting pretty close to the Georgian border…”

  “Yeah,” Flame paused as he heard a helicopter in the distance. “I guess it’s time we got off the road—they’ll be trying to spot us from the air.” He patted the steering wheel. “Good thing this has four-wheel drive!”

  “And six wheels.” Aesop smiled. “How does that happen?”

  “Russian know-how.” Flame glanced at the map. “Looks like we get off somewhere south of Gali—there’s some cover in the foothills.”

  “Yeah.” Aesop traced a line with his finger. “According to this we’ll be under heavy cover there—no chance of being seen from the air.

  “We’d better get there quick.” Flame pointed to a helicopter passing some distance to the south. “That’s an MI-24, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Aesop squinted into the distance. “Fully armed, too.”

  “Looking for us, do you think?”

  “No.” Aesop shook his head. “Looks like it’s going in for a landing.” He smiled. “Covering the border crossing, maybe?”

  “Let’s get off the road.” Flame nodded toward the closed window that led to the rear bay. “Tell them that it’s about to get bumpy.”

  Before Aesop had a chance to do more than yell a warning, Flame saw the hint of an eastbound trail coming up on the other side of the highway. He braked hard, ignoring the cries and curses that came through the window, and cut across four lanes of highway, the rear end of the Ural bumping hard as he did so.

  He would apologize later—for now, it was more important to get off the road and under cover before the helicopter came back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lieutenant Rankin might have seen his missing vehicle—he was on the proper side of the helicopter to make a sighting—but he was too lost in misery to see much of anything. I should have waited to get medication, he told himself. Now the sergeant knows I am weak. He shook his head—and instantly regretted the action as a new wave of nausea swept over him. He will use that. The lieutenant was painfully aware of the power of NCOs in the Russian military. He will use his knowledge first chance he gets.

  As the helicopter settled onto the clean, unmoving earth of northern Georgia, Rankin vowed not to give him that chance.

  “Lieutenant Rankin?” A senior sergeant opened the door and peered into the helicopter’s dimly-lit interior, saluting as he saw the portly Rankin’s shoulder tabs. “I am Sergeant Votansky. I have been ordered to give you every assistance in your quest for the missing Typhoon and the thieving bastards who took it.”

  “Thank…” Rankin swallowed hard. “Thank you, Sergeant.” He gestured to his own NCO. “This is Sergeant Normakov—he will also be assisting me…” Rankin smiled weakly, seeing an opportunity. “…assisting us.”

  Before either man could say anything more, the pilot of the MI-24 glared at them. “Lieutenant, I need you to get off right now.” He tapped his watch. “I am due back on station in less than an hour.”

  “Of course.” Rankin grabbed his bag and stepped out, staggering for a moment before catching his balance. “Normakov!” He gestured to his companion. “Get out now!”

  The portly sergeant jumped out without the slightest sign of grace—clearing the landing gear just as the pilot rotated his collective control and lifted off, the backwash from his rotors nearly throwing all three soldiers off their feet.

  “Ублюдок!” Rankin glared at the ascending chopper. “He could have waited for us to get clear.”

  “He is a pilot.” Votansky shrugged. “They are all bastards.” He smiled at Rankin. “Now if you will follow me, sir, we have set up a headquarters near the border crossing.”

  ***

  Flame had the Typhoon under the cover of a copse of trees before the helicopter climbed back into sight. He and Aesop watched as it headed away from them and over the sea—clearly not searching for anything.

  “So what do we do now?” Karin was propped in the window, eyes on the two SEALs. “Go back on the road?”

  “Not just yet.” Flame shook his head and pulled out his binoculars. “We know they’re looking for us—the radio broadcasts made that clear enough. If we go back onto the road now, they’ll find us easily.” He stepped outside, stretching. “Aesop, keep everyone here for now—I want to get a good look around.”

  “I will not stay—I want to come with you,” Karin backed out of the window. “I need to stretch my legs.”

  “I’m not going to argue with the lady.” Aesop chuckled. “Let her go with you.”

  “Okay, but keep your eyes open.” Flame did a quick three-sixty, checking the area around them with the binoculars. “If anybody shows up, gun it and get out of here.”

  “Roger that.” Aesop nodded and moved into the driver’s seat. “Just for my own information, if I’m not here when you get back, what will you do?”

  “I’ll walk out.”

  “Taking her with you?” He gestured to Karin who had exited the recon module and was hurrying to join Flame.

  “Of course.”

  “Just the two of you—walking the two or three hundred miles to Istanbul.” Aesop chuckled. “Might be fun at that.”

  “Just stay alert—I’ll be back right after I check things out.”

  “Whatever you say, Flame.” Aesop put on his most innocent face. “You’re the boss.”

  “What was that all about?” Karin asked after they had gotten out of earshot of the vehicle.

  “It’s complicated.” Flame pointed to a high spot just ahead and slightly north of the rutted path they were following. “Let’s get up there and have a look around.”

  Spring had not yet come to this part of the world and the ground was still partially frozen and quite hard. Flame cautioned Karin to watch her step and led the way along a rocky rise until they were on top of the high spot he’d seen. The land to the south was obscured by thick forest, but he could see clearly to the north and east.

  “Nothing much on the road.” He studied the long ribbon of concrete through the binoculars. “I guess there just isn’t that much traffic through this part of Russia.”

  “Wait another couple of months.” Karin smiled. “Krasnodar is considered a vacation destination by many.”

  “Is it?” Flame shifted to the east. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

  “Who is this Kimberly that Aesop keeps referencing?”

  “That too is…” Flame shrugged. “Complicated.”

  “I see.” Karin turned away from Flame, searching the land to the west. Something caught her eye. “Look!”

  “I’ll be damned.” Flame centered the aircraft she had seen in his binoculars. “That’s a Technoavia Rysachok—an English Racehorse.” He smiled at Karin and passed her the glasses. “It’s designed to be a general aviation carrier—I didn’t think they had any in service yet.”

  “It’s looking for us.” Karin studied the plane through the binoculars. “Flying low over the roadway.”

  “Seems a waste—the thing can carry twenty or so people but doesn’t have any real surveillance hardware.” Flame shrugged. “That’s a good thing, though; they don’t have infrared or sophisticated optical systems that might have a chance of spotting us.” He smiled. “They’re barely trying.”

  “Good.” Karin handed the glasses back. “That means we should be able to get home without further incident—right?”

  “Well.” Flame smiled and shrugged. “We still have to cross the Georgian border, not to mention entering Turkey…”

  “I see.” Karin raised an eyebrow. “Will we make it?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes held hers. “We’ll make it.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “I want to make sure I hear all of your complicated story about Kimberly…”

  With that she turned and headed back to the Typhoon, never once looking back.

  ***

  “The planes saw nothing?” Rankin was looking over a map, trying to guess which of the many possible roads the thieves could have taken. “Nothing at all?”

  “They swept all the major road systems to the east and south of Krasnodar.” Votansky indicated the roads on the map. “I doubt these people would head to the north.”

  “No.” Rankin shook his head in agreement. “They wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then they have left the road,” the senior sergeant shrugged. “And we have no chance of catching them.”

  “If the planes didn’t see them, they could not have gone east.” He pointed to the map. “They would have run into the airport checkpoint and been caught there.” He shook his head. “No, they must have come south—toward us.”

  “They have not crossed the border here!” Votansky’s voice held conviction. “I am certain of that.”

  “Then they must have left the road somewhere near…” He touched the map. “Gali.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “We know the planes did not spot them. We know they did not cross the border.” Rankin straightened his back, faced the two sergeants. “A Ural 63059 cannot travel much more than 75 or 80 kilometers an hour. If we assume that they have been traveling since they left the ferry crossing…”

  “Bozemoi!” Votansky stared at the map. “Of course! They must have left the road somewhere north of Gali and gone to the east!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The countryside west of the road is barren—the plane would have seen them.”

  “So they have gone under the trees…”

  “And they cannot go far.” The sergeant stabbed at the map. “The land rises sharply here—even a four-wheel drive vehicle would be unable to travel very far.”

  “They will turn south somewhere around Jvari,” Rankin slammed his hand down. “It is the only possible place!” He turned to Votansky. “We must go there immediately!”

  ***

  Flame returned nearly an hour after Karin, nodding at Aesop as he approached the Ural. “I think they fell for it,” he grinned. “I saw two vehicles leave the area of the checkpoint heading to the northeast.”