C’mon, you bastard.
Then he spotted a faint glow through the storm, running low.
Beacon lights.
Kowalski leaned tighter to his gun and strafed into the air, trusting the muzzle flashes to draw the eye of the helo’s pilot.
If I can see you, then you can see me.
The helicopter’s light bobbled, steadied, then swung in his direction, away from the others who remained lost in the snow.
There you go...
They hit the woods at full speed. Kowalski ducked as pine branches battered the Berkut and him. It felt like he was flying through the coldest carwash in a convertible. The snowmobile shot up a steep incline, carving a deep trail.
As they reached the top, the little Russian war mobile caught air, flying free for a breath, then crashed back in a jarring thump. Kowalski’s forehead cracked into the edge of the cab. His vision narrowed, but he held tight.
He swung around enough to spot the lights above the trees. The helicopter buzzed the tops, swirling snow and frozen needles from branches. From its sweeping pattern, the pilot had momentarily lost them.
As Kowalski had hoped, the aircraft’s cameras and FLIR thermal-imaging systems were compromised by the snowstorm and geomagnetic interference.
Still, the pilot had eyes.
“Now!” Kowalski boomed out.
The headlamps flared from the front of the cab. Up until now, they had been running dark, but no longer.
With the Berkut still at high speed, Kowalski jerked to his feet, yanked the long gun from its mount, and rolled off the snowmobile. He hit a snowdrift and toppled several yards, grateful for the cushioning, until he struck a buried log.
The impact nearly tore the machine gun from his grip.
He clamped his hands tighter, earning a complaint from his stabbed forearm. He felt several stitches rip. He ignored the pain.
What’s one more scar?
The Berkut, brightly lit, continued onward and dove over the ridge’s edge and vanished into the next valley.
Kowalski heaved onto his back and lifted his machine gun, balancing the eight-kilo gun on his shoulder. He waited for the helo to take the shining bait. It didn’t take long. Two breaths later, the world filled with roaring. Snow and pine needles whipped into a stinging gale around him.
It blinded him—which wasnotpart of his plan.
He winced and squinted against the pounding of the rotorwash.
With no better option, he opened fire and strafed toward the glaring lights.
Hope this still works.
He heard the blast of a rocket launch and spotted the brighter flare of its exhaust.
Guess not.
36
May 13, 8:04P.M. MSK
Severodvinsk, Arkhangelsk Oblast
In the rear of the truck, Elle cringed and ducked as a loud blast echoed across the forest. This time, it was not thundersnow.
