Red Sniper

Not long after the stars had come out, Honaker and his team, Cole included, moved into position beyond the Gulag walls. It was Vaska who placed them, hidden beside the dirt road that connected the Gulag to the village. Crouched in the darkness with their guns and knives, they could have been setting up an ambush rather than a rescue.

For the umpteenth time, Cole considered how indebted they were to Vaska. Without the Russian’s help, they would literally have been stumbling around in the dark. It was against Cole’s nature to trust anyone easily, and it still worried him that Vaska could betray them with a simple word to this Barkov character, or to the Gulag commandant. Maybe Vaska was all right, but if Mrs. Vaska ever got tired of fish pie and wanted something a little better, there might be in trouble.

There was something slow and steady about Vaska that Cole trusted. Vaska was a hunter and a trapper, after all, so Cole had formed an immediate connection with the Russian.

It was hard to tell how long they crouched there in the darkness. At one point, someone came along the road, but it was only one of the villagers who worked at the prison. They could hear him singing. He sounded a little drunk. Oblivious, the villager passed within a few feet of the hidden Americans.

Another hour went by. No one else passed on the road. At night, the road between the Gulag and the village was hardly a thoroughfare. For such a large facility, the Gulag in the distance was oddly quiet. The only sounds came from the village that lay maybe a quarter of a mile away. They heard barking dogs, some shouting between a husband and wife, the sound of someone chopping wood.

“You must have patience,” Vaska said. “She is coming.”

Cole had to hand it to Vaska, because he himself hadn’t seen a thing. He reckoned it helped that Vaska was on his home turf. Also, Vaska had brought along his dog, whose ears were about a hundred times better than their own. From where he was standing, Cole could hear the dog growl. He tightened his grip on the rifle.

Moments later, Inna emerged as a shadow on the road from the Gulag.

She gasped when Cole emerged from the shadows.

“I have done it,” she said excitedly. “The gate is unlocked, and I left Harry the signal. He should be here any minute.”

“If he ain’t here in thirty minutes, we’ve got to call it off,” Cole said. “We need a head start on whoever is gonna chase us, and the closer we get to morning roll call, the less time we have.”

“He will be here,” Inna said.

“I sure as hell hope so,” Cole said. “For his sake—and ours.”

By previous arrangement, it had been decided that Cole would be the one to step out of the shadows while the others still waited, hidden, with weapons drawn, just in case Inna or Whitlock, when he showed up, had accidentally brought along any Russians.

Inna crouched beside Cole, struggling to remain calm. She seemed to be holding her breath. Once or twice she fidgeted or cleared her throat as if to speak, but Cole quieted her with a touch. It was better not to call any attention to themselves. Anyone else might be concealed in the darkness nearby.

She had mentioned this thug named Barkov. What if he had followed along behind Inna, unseen?

Fortunately, Vaska’s laika had much keener senses than any of the men. He had told them the dog’s name was Buka, which translated roughly to surly. The name fit.

Buka began to growl.

• • •

Whitlock and Ramsey had both had slept in their boots. Other than their tattered coats and their supply of bread, which barely filled a single pocket, they had nothing else to pack or carry.

No one seemed to pay any attention to Whitlock and Ramsey. It wasn’t unusual for men to get up during the night to relieve themselves. The door of the barracks was not watched, although the compound itself was guarded. They slipped out into the night.

“I have to tell you, Harry, I don’t think I can make a run for it if it comes to that,” Ramsey whispered. “You’ll need to leave me behind.”

“We’ll walk,” Whitlock whispered back. “If we run, we’ll only attract attention to ourselves.”

Side by side, they took their time crossing the distance to the gate. They expected at any moment for someone to shout at them to halt. Nobody seemed to be around. Inna definitely was nowhere to be seen. There were a couple of figures moving through the gloom in another part of the compound, but those guards were too far away to identify them as escaping prisoners. They reached the gate, found it unlocked, and walked beyond the Gulag walls.

They had escaped.

Ahead of them, about half a mile away, they could see a few twinkling lights from the village. Those lights seemed swallowed up by the vast darkness of the taiga beyond. The wind was blowing, and Whitlock found himself shivering. It was late October, but it felt cold as a December night back home in New England. The ground felt frozen under his feet.

Ramsey looked at him and said, “Now what?”